Their Kind of FairyTale
by Sehrezad
Summary: Injured and lost in a South American jungle, accepting the inevitable, Gibbs tells a tale to Ziva before they say their final good-bye.  it can be read as Zibbs but you can take it as a friendship piece, too; it's up to you  Character death!


**Their Kind of Fairy-Tale**

_Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS and its characters and "The Happy Prince" belongs to Oscar Wilde._

_Summary: Injured and lost in a South American jungle, accepting the inevitable, Gibbs tells a tale to Ziva before they say their final good-bye. (it can be read as Zibbs but you can take it as a friendship piece, too; it's up to you) Warning: character death!_

_The texts in italic are direct quotations from the tale. You can find a link to the complete tale of "The Happy Prince" by Oscar Wilde if you go to my Profile. If you haven't read it, do it. It's really worth it._

_A huge thank you goes out to Zivacentric for her immense help with this one. It was quite some time ago, wasn't it? :) Thank you and here goes a hug for you in advance._

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><p>The hot air was heavy with humidity and it settled on the forest like a thick blanket. Silence reigned in the shadow of the huge trees and it seemed that there was no living creature that was eager to break it. Only the fluttering of the birds' wings could be heard as they flew from branch to branch on the giant trees but even they were reluctant to utter any kind of voice.<p>

The silence felt almost threatening as Gibbs sat on the dirty ground, leaning against a tree. He was covered in dust, sweat and blood and he could feel the mixture of all of these biting the open wounds that covered his body. Apart from the steady rise and fall of his chest, he was motionless while he listened to the world around him. He could hear the birds flying above him and occasionally he could even hear the undergrowth move as some kind of insect passed by. But his attention was focused on the heavy breathing of the woman lying with her head in his lap. In the suffocating dampness every raspy breath she took sounded like a struggle for one more… and one more... just one more…

Gibbs listened, his heart wrenching with fear every time it took her just a little longer to breathe in again. He began to count every time the air left her lungs. But he didn't count the seconds. He counted the pulsating of his vein as it was thumping cruelly against his temples. He knew she was fading… and so was he.

"Tell me a story," her raspy voice broke the silence of the forest and Gibbs' head involuntarily turned towards her.

"A story, Ziver?" his voice meant to be amused at the surprising request but the pain that seemed to have taken over whole of his body made it more of a hiss.

"Please," she breathed, exhausted and Gibbs could hear her breathing change as she held his hand, resting on her stomach, just a little bit tighter. She was in pain.

"Alright," he took a deep breath and promptly began to cough as the heavy air resisted, leaving him breathless. He could hear Ziva wince as his movements caused her as much pain as they did to him.

"_High above the city_," he began after he had managed to calm down. His voice was low and rough with thirst. He ignored his pain. _"…on a tall column, stood the statue of the Happy Prince. He was gilded all over with thin leaves of fine gold, for eyes he had two bright sapphires, and a large red ruby glowed on his sword-hilt_."

"Beautiful," he could hear Ziva utter in a small voice but he couldn't see the tiny smile that graced her worn features.

"Yes, beautiful," he sighed. "_He was very much admired indeed_," he continued intent on making Ziva forget about their current predicament and her pain. Well, maybe "The Happy Prince" wasn't the wisest of choices, Gibbs thought bitterly, but it was the only one he knew. And sadly, it was fitting, too. Lost in a South American jungle, seriously injured and without the hope of being rescued in time, he doubted that a "happily ever after" would ease their minds.

In his lap, with closed eyes, Ziva listened intently to the tale but after a little while, hearing about the Swallow's affair with the Reed, her exhausted mind began to wander and she found herself contemplating her life. She'd always been restless her whole life. Even as a child she had always found something to do, some place to go. She just couldn't sit in one place. Later, she began to realize that something was missing from her life and joining Mossad she finally found that something: she craved the thrill of hunting.

She became a trained assassin. Killing became her life. And she never stopped. Her accomplishment made her father immensely proud but ultimately she had lost everything on the way. She buried a sister and killed a brother. Her mother couldn't look at her without shame in her otherwise warm eyes and her father stopped seeing her as a daughter; she'd become a weapon in Mossad's hands. And she didn't mind it.

She stopped paying attention to her mother's accusations. She avenged her sister's death, she grieved for her brother, and during all of this she failed to realize that she'd been left behind.

Just like the Swallow whose comrades flew away when he refused to leave the Reed behind, Ziva's life became lonely and centered on only one thing: her job. And just like the Reed failed to live up to the expectations of the Swallow, the satisfaction her job gave Ziva became less and less fulfilling.

It was hard for her to adjust to the life in the US. Her hands were tied by the strict rules of NCIS which left little room for taking care of business in an alternative – and in Ziva's opinion, more effective – way. But she wasn't alone anymore. There were people in her life who were willing to guide her and after a long time spent watching Team Gibbs operate, she learnt that there were other ways than the one of violence. Under Gibbs' guidance she came to see what honor, unselfishness, and trust meant.

It was a long road, but she had changed. It was hard and she never stopped doubting herself.

"…_and he sank back into a delicious slumber. Then the Swallow flew back to the Happy Prince, and told him what he had done. "It is curious," he remarked, "but I feel quite warm now, although it is so cold." That is because you have done a good action," said the Prince..._"

Hearing how the selfish Swallow flew over the city with a ruby from the Prince's sword in his mouth to help a poor family, not minding the cold and the urge to follow his comrades to the rich land of Egypt, Ziva let out a whimper. Gibbs stopped speaking.

"What is it, Ziva?" His free hand moved to her forehead that was damp with sweat. She was burning up.

"Nothing," Ziva shook her head ever so slightly. "It just hurts…" She couldn't finish the sentence because she didn't want Gibbs to hear the tears in her voice and this way, he couldn't know that she wasn't referring to her injuries.

"I know, Ziver. Just hang on." He let out a shaky breath.

"Continue… please."

"_"To-night I go to Egypt," said the Swallow, and he was in high spirits at the prospect. He visited all the public monuments, and sat a long time on top of the church steeple. Wherever he went the Sparrows chirruped, and said to each other, "What a distinguished stranger!" so he enjoyed himself very much…_"

Her Egypt was Mossad. It promised her that excitement she was living for her whole life. It was shining with the promise of thrilling adventures and she was blinded by it so much that she was unaware of anything else.

"_"Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow," said the Prince, "will you not stay with me one night longer?" "I am waited for in Egypt," answered the Swallow._"

_Egypt_. She left twice and came back both times. It just wasn't the same anymore and finally she knew why. Her time at NCIS had irrevocably changed her. Her teammates showed her what real friendship is. It wasn't admiration and fear that shone in their eyes when they looked at her, it was warm affection. They didn't put a distance between themselves and the ruthless assassin; they wanted to know the woman behind all that façade. She enjoyed Ducky's anecdotes over a cup of tea; together with McGee, she teased Tony mercilessly and Tony laughed with them; with Abby she could be a simple girl who found it amusing just to talk about girlish things; and with the help of Gibbs she learnt what life was really about.

In Gibbs' raspy voice the tale went on and Ziva listened intently as the Prince once again asked the Swallow to stay with him for one more night and help a poor young man. For some reason, she felt relieved when the Swallow agreed.

"_"Alas! I have no ruby now," said the Prince; "my eyes are all that I have left. They are made of rare sapphires, which were brought out of India a thousand years ago. Pluck out one of them and take it to him. He will sell it to the jeweller, and buy food and firewood, and fi…_"

He stopped abruptly as a new sound caught his ears. The sound of Ziva's breathing changed. The steady rasping sound turned into rapid whistling. He held Ziva's hand tighter.

"This prince… he is really a good man," Ziva looked at Gibbs with a gentle smile. In that moment, she wished that he could see her, see the endless gratitude that broke through the pain.

"He knows the dark side of life. He sees it everyday; he feels it everyday. It taught him compassion."

"Can the swallow learn it, too?" Gibbs could hear real concern behind Ziva's question. He gave her a small smile, though whether she could see it or not, he couldn't know, then he continued the tale, telling how the Prince gave up his other eye, too, and how the Swallow came to an important decision.

"_So he plucked out the Prince's other eye, and darted down with it. He swooped past the match-girl, and slipped the jewel into the palm of her hand. "What a lovely bit of glass," cried the little girl; and she ran home, laughing. Then the Swallow came back to the Prince. "You are blind now," he said, "so I will stay with you always." "No, little Swallow," said the poor Prince, "you must go away to Egypt." "I will stay with you always," said the Swallow, and he slept at the Prince's feet._"

Collecting every bit of strength she still felt in her, Ziva reached up with one hand and caressed the dirty piece of cloth that covered Gibbs eyes.

"The Swallow has learnt it," she whispered. She had learnt it. That was why she was lying in his arms now in the middle of nowhere, waiting for it all to end. She had known what that whole mission would come to but she couldn't let him go alone. And she was happy that she had followed him because now she knew that her place was with him no matter where that place would be.

"_The poor little Swallow grew colder and colder,_" Gibbs swallowed back a sob as he set out to complete the story, "_but he would not leave the Prince, he loved him too well. He picked up crumbs outside the baker's door when the baker was not looking and tried to keep himself warm by flapping his wings. But at last he knew that he was going to die. He had just strength to fly up to the Prince's shoulder once more. "Good-bye, dear Prince!" he murmured, "will you let me kiss your hand?" "I am glad that you are going to Egypt at last, little Swallow," said the Prince, "you have stayed too long here; but you must kiss me on the lips, for I love you." "It is not to Egypt that I am going," said the Swallow. "I am going to the House of Death. Death is the brother of Sleep, is he not?" And he kissed the Happy Prince on the lips, and fell down dead at his feet. At that moment a curious crack sounded inside the statue, as if something had broken. The fact is that the leaden heart had snapped right in two._"

It was hard to finish the tale and when Gibbs finally did, silence settled on the forest once more, only broken by Ziva's rapid whistling breathing as she kept struggling for that one final breath. In the silence Gibbs could hear when Ziva decided not to fight anymore.

"Good-bye, dear Prince," Ziva murmured, echoing the parting words of the Swallow, "will you let me kiss your hand?"

Gibbs choked on his tears that had begun to soak the cloth around his eyes a long time ago. Without saying anything, he leant down and after gently running dirty fingers over her bruised lips, he gently placed his lips against Ziva's. He could feel her lips curve into a small smile…

…then he heard nothing.

"I love you, my Swallow," he murmured against Ziva's still lips, not resisting the sobs anymore. Suddenly a herd of birds took off from the shade of the tree Gibbs was leaning against with a loud cry as if an unexpected sound had disturbed their peace. Gibbs wondered whether they had heard the crack of his heart as it snapped right in two.

**THE END**

_Thanks for reading!_


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